Part 6

One instant pauses Sober-sides, A little sigh to fetch-- "Well, seems to me a stocking's best, For wooden shoes won't stretch!"

EDITH M. THOMAS

_By permission of Houghton Mifflin Company_

Jule-Nissen

I do not know how the forty years I have been away have dealt with "Jule-nissen," the Christmas elf of my childhood in far-off Denmark. He was pretty old then, gray and bent, and there were signs that his time was nearly over. So it may be that they have laid him away. I shall find out when I go over there next time. When I was a boy we never sat down to our Christmas Eve dinner until a bowl of rice and milk had been taken up to the attic, where he lived with the martin and its young, and kept an eye upon the house--saw that everything ran smoothly. I never met him myself, but I know the house cat must have done so. No doubt they were well acquainted; for when in the morning I went in for the bowl, there it was, quite dry and licked clean, and the cat purring in the corner. So, being there all night, she must have seen and likely talked with him....

The Nisse was of the family, as you see,--very much of it,--and certainly not to be classed with the cattle. Yet they were his special concern; he kept them quiet, saw to it, when the stableman forgot, that they were properly bedded and cleaned and fed. He was very well known to the hands about the farm, and they said that he looked just like a little old man, all in gray and with a pointed red night-cap and long gray beard. He was always civilly treated, as indeed he deserved to be, but Christmas was his great holiday, when he became part of it, indeed, and was made much of. So, for that matter, was everything that lived under the husbandman's roof or within reach of it. Even the sparrows that burrowed in the straw-thatch and did it no good were not forgotten. A sheaf of rye was set out in the snow for them on the Holy Eve, so that on that night at least they should have shelter and warmth unchallenged, and plenty to eat. At all other times we were permitted to raid their nests and help ourselves to a sparrow roast, which was by long odds the greatest treat we had. Thirty or forty of them, dug out by the light of the stable-lantern and stuffed into Ane's long stocking, which we had borrowed for a game-bag, made a meal for the whole family, each sparrow a fat mouthful. Ane was the cook, and I am very certain that her pot roast of sparrow would pass muster at any Fifth Avenue restaurant as the finest dish of reed-birds that ever was. However, at Christmas their sheaf was their sanctuary, and no one as much as squinted at them. Only last winter, when Christmas found me stranded in a little Michigan town, wandering disconsolate about the streets, I came across such a sheaf raised on a pole in a dooryard, and I knew at once that one of my people lived in that house and kept Yule in the old way. So I felt as if I were not quite a stranger.

Blowing in the Yule from the grim old tower that had stood eight hundred years against the blasts of the North Sea was one of the customs of the old town that abide, however it fares with the Nisse; that I know. At sun-up, while yet the people were at breakfast, the town band climbed the many steep ladders to the top of the tower, and up there, in fair weather or foul--and sometimes it blew great guns from the wintry sea--they played four old hymns, one to each corner of the compass, so that no one was forgotten. They always began with Luther's sturdy challenge, "A Mighty Fortress is Our God," while down below we listened devoutly. There was something both weird and beautiful about those far-away strains in the early morning light of the northern winter, something that was not of earth and that suggested to my child's imagination the angels' songs on far Judean hills. Even now, after all these years, the memory of it does that. It could not have been because the music was so rare, for the band was made up of small store-keepers and artisans who thus turned an honest penny on festive occasions. Incongruously enough, I think the official town mourner, who bade people to funerals, was one of them. It was like the burghers' guard, the colonel of which--we thought him at least a general, because of the huge brass sword he trailed when he marched at the head of his men--was the town tailor, a very small but very martial man. But whether or no, it was beautiful. I have never heard music since that so moved me. When the last strain died away, came the big bells with their deep voices that sang far out over field and heath, and our Yule was fairly under way.

JACOB RIIS in _The Old Town_

"Lame Needles" in Eubœa

In the first place, it must be clearly understood that Christmas time to a Greek is by no means considered as festive; in fact they look upon the twelve days which intervene between Christmas and Epiphany rather with abhorrence than otherwise; it is to them the season when ghosts and hobgoblins are supposed to be most rampant; it is generally cold, ungenial weather, and the Greeks of to-day, like their ancestors, live contented only when the warm rays of the life-giving sun scorch them. They can get up no enthusiasm as we can about yule logs and blazing fires, for they have nothing to warm themselves with save small charcoal braziers capable of communicating heat to not more than one limb at a time; all the festive energies of the race are reserved for Carnival and Easter-tide, when the warmth of spring enables them once more to enjoy life out-of-doors--the only one tolerable when you know what their low dirty houses are like....

For a month before Christmas every pious Greek has observed a rigid fast; consequently the "table" which on that day is spread in every house produces something akin to festivity. On a small round table was placed a perfect mountain of maccaroni and cheese--coarse sheep's-milk cheese which stung the mouth like mustard and left a pungent taste which tarried therein for days. There were no plates, no forks, no spoons. What a meal it was indeed, as if it were a contest in gastronomic activity! I was left far behind in the contest, and great was my relief when it was removed and dried fruits and nuts took its place. To drink we had resinated wine--that is to say wine which had been stored in a keg covered with resin inside, which gives the flavor so much relished by the Greeks, but which is almost as unpalatable to an Englishman as beer must be to those who drink it for the first time. The wine, however, had the effect of loosening the tongues of my friends, who had been too busy as yet to talk, and they told me many interesting Christmas tales.

In the first place the conversation turned on certain spirits called "lame needles," which every Eubœan woman of low degree will tell you visit the earth at this season of the year; one lame needle, presumably the leader, comes on Christmas Eve, and the rest of the tribe put in an appearance on Christmas Day. They are dreadful creatures to look upon, and according to my friends, they live in caves whilst on earth, near which no wise person at this season of the year will venture.

They subsist, like the Amazons of old, on snakes and lizards, and sometimes on women, if they are lucky enough to entrap one.

These demons are only dangerous at night from sunset to cockcrow. When not engaged in dancing the lame needles wander about, and do any amount of mischief. It is their custom to enter houses by the chimney, so every housewife is careful at this season of the year to leave some embers burning all night, for they dread fire and also crosses, and it is for this reason that at Christmas time we see so many whitewash crosses on the cottage doors in Greece.... When Epiphany comes these lame needles are forced to flee again underground; but before they go they take a hack at the tree which supports the world, and which one day they will cut through. In appearance these ugly visitors are supposed to be goat-footed goblins, far taller than any man; in fact, I should imagine that they are lineal descendants of the satyrs of old still haunting their accustomed purlieus.... I will give you a specimen of one of the stories which my friends told me when I slightly threw discredit on the above described apparitions. It is not a very lively one, but will show the character of the Christmas stories which are current in Greece to-day.

"A lame needle once overheard two women settling to get up at night during the season of the twelve days to leaven bread at the house of one of them. Accordingly he knocked at the door of the woman who was going to carry her dough to the other's house and pretended to be a messenger sent to hurry her.

"Fearing nothing, the silly woman set off with her dough accompanied by the uncanny messenger. When they had got a little distance the lame needle turned round and said, 'Stop; I wish to eat you!' Whereat the woman recognized who he was, and mindful of the fact that lame needles are very inquisitive, she replied, 'Just wait till I tell you a story.' It was very long and very interesting, so the first cock crew before it was finished. 'It is only the black one; go on; I have yet time,' said the eager lame needle. Then the second cock crew, and he said, 'It is only the red one; I have nought yet to fear.' Just as the woman had reached the most thrilling part of her story the third cock crew, 'It is the white one,' exclaimed the terrified hobgoblin; 'I must be gone.'"

I am sure this story is believed by the peasants of Eubœa.

J. THEODORE BENT

Who Rides behind the Bells?

Our shabby drawing-room was ablaze with red candles; and what with holly red on the walls and the snow banking the casements and bells jingling up and down the avenue, the sense of Christmas was very real. For me, Christmas seems always to be just past or else on the way; and that sixth sense of Christmas being actually Now is thrice desirable.

On the stroke of nine we two, waiting before the fire, heard Nichola on the basement stairs; and by the way in which she mounted, with labor and caution, I knew that she was bringing the punch. We had wished to have it ready--that harmless steaming punch compounded from my mother's recipe--when our guests arrived, so that they should first of all hear the news and drink health to Eunice and Hobart.

Nichola was splendid in her scarlet merino and that vast cap effect managed by a starched pillow-case and a bit of string, and over her arm hung a huge holly wreath for the bowl's brim. When she had deposited her fragrant burden and laid the wreath in place she stood erect and looked at us solemnly for a moment, and then her face wrinkled in all directions and was lighted with her rare puckered smile.

"Mer--ry Christmas!" she said.

"Merry Christmas, Nichola!" we cried, and I think that in all her years with us we had never before heard the words from her lips.

"_Who_ goes ridin' behind the sleigh-bells to-night?" she asked then abruptly.

"Who rides?" I repeated, puzzled.

"Yes," Nichola said; "this is a night when all folk stay home. The whole world sits by the fire on Christmas night. An' yet the sleigh-bells ring like mad. It is not holy."

Pelleas and I had never thought of that. But there may be something in it. Who indeed, when all the world keeps hearth-holiday, who is it that rides abroad on Christmas night behind the bells?

"Good spirits, perhaps, Nichola," Pelleas said, smiling.

"I do not doubt it," Nichola declared gravely; "that is not holy either--to doubt."

"No," we said, "to doubt good spirits is never holy."

ZONA GALE in _The Loves of Pelleas and Etarre_

Guests at Yule

Nöel! Nöel! Thus sounds each Christmas bell Across the winter snow. But what are the little footprints all That mark the path from the church-yard wall? These are those of the children waked to-night From sleep by the Christmas bells and light: Ring sweetly, chimes! Soft, soft, my rhymes! Their beds are under the snow.

Nöel! Nöel! Carols each Christmas bell. What are the wraiths of mist That gather anear the window-pane Where the winter frost all day has lain? They are soulless elves, who fain would peer Within, and laugh at our Christmas cheer: Ring fleetly, chimes! Swift, swift, my rhymes! They are made of the mocking mist.

Nöel! Nöel! Cease, cease, each Christmas bell! Under the holly bough, Where the happy children throng and shout, What shadows seem to flit about? Is it the mother, then, who died, Ere the greens were sere last Christmastide? Hush, falling chimes! Cease, cease, my rhymes! The guests are gathered now.

EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN

_By permission of Houghton Mifflin Company_

IV

CHRISTMAS CAROLS

CHRISTMAS CAROLS

"I saw Three Ships" "Lordings, listen to Our Lay" The Cherry-Tree Carol "In Excelsis Gloria" "God Rest You Merry, Gentlemen" The Golden Carol Caput apri refero resonens laudes domino "Villagers All, this Frosty Tide" Holly Song "Before the Paling of the Stars" The Minstrels played their Christmas Tune A Carol from the Old French "From Far Away we come to you" A Christmas Carol A Christmas Carol for Children

The First Christmas Carol

Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.

And this shall be a sign unto you; ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in a manger.

_Chorus_

Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men.

_St. Luke's Gospel_

I saw Three Ships

I saw three ships come sailing in, On Christmas day, on Christmas day; I saw three ships come sailing in, On Christmas day in the morning.

And what was in those ships all three, On Christmas day, on Christmas day? And what was in those ships all three, On Christmas day in the morning?

The Virgin Mary and Christ were there, On Christmas day, on Christmas day; The Virgin Mary and Christ were there, On Christmas day in the morning.

Pray, whither sailed those ships all three, On Christmas day, on Christmas day? Pray, whither sailed those ships all three, On Christmas day in the morning?

O they sailed into Bethlehem, On Christmas day, on Christmas day; O they sailed into Bethlehem, On Christmas day in the morning.

And all the bells on earth shall ring, On Christmas day, on Christmas day; And all the bells on earth shall ring, On Christmas day in the morning.

And all the Angels in Heaven shall sing, On Christmas day, on Christmas day; And all the Angels in Heaven shall sing, On Christmas day in the morning.

And all the souls on earth shall sing, On Christmas day, on Christmas day; And all the souls on earth shall sing, On Christmas day in the morning.

Then let us all rejoice amain, On Christmas day, on Christmas day; Then let us all rejoice amain, On Christmas day in the morning.

_Old English Carol_

Lordings, listen to Our Lay

Lordings, listen to our lay-- We have come from far away To seek Christmas; In this mansion we are told He his yearly feast doth hold: 'Tis to day! _May joy come from God above, To all those who Christmas love._

Lordings, I now tell you true, Christmas bringeth unto you Only mirth: His house he fills with many a dish, Of bread and meat and also fish, To grace the day. _May joy come from God above, To all those who Christmas love._

Lordings, through our army's band They say--who spends with open hand Free and fast, And oft regales his many friends-- God gives him double what he spends, To grace the day. _May joy come from God above, To all those who Christmas love._

Lordings, wicked men eschew, In them never shall you view Aught that's good; Cowards are the rabble rout, Kick and beat the grumblers out, To grace the day. _May joys come from God above, To all those who Christmas love._

Lords, by Christmas and the host Of this mansion hear my toast-- Drink it well-- Each must drain his cup of wine, And I the first will toss off mine: Thus I advise, Here then I bid you all _Wassail_, Cursed be he who will not say _Drinkhail_.

_Earliest Existing Carol; Thirteenth Century_

The Cherry-Tree Carol

As Joseph was a-walking, He heard an angel sing, "This night shall be the birth-time Of Christ, the heavenly King.

"He neither shall be born In housen nor in hall, Nor in the place of paradise, But in an ox's stall.

"He neither shall be clothèd In purple nor in pall, But in the fair white linen That usen babies all.

"He neither shall be rockèd In silver nor in gold, But in a wooden manger That resteth on the mould."

As Joseph was a-walking, There did an angel sing, And Mary's child at midnight Was born to be our King.

Then be ye glad, good people, This night of all the year, And light ye up your candles, For his star it shineth clear.

_Old English_

In Excelsis Gloria

When Christ was born of Mary free, In Bethlehem, in that fair citie, Angels sang there with mirth and glee, _In Excelsis Gloria!_

Herdsmen beheld these angels bright, To them appearing with great light, Who said, "God's Son is born this night," _In Excelsis Gloria!_

This King is come to save mankind, As in Scripture truths we find, Therefore this song have we in mind, _In Excelsis Gloria!_

Then, Lord, for thy great grace, Grant us the bliss to see thy face, Where we may sing to thy solace, _In Excelsis Gloria!_

_From the Harleian MSS._

God Rest You Merry, Gentlemen

God rest you merry, gentlemen, Let nothing you dismay, For Jesus Christ, our Saviour, Was born upon this day; To save us all from Satan's power, When we were gone astray.

_O tidings of comfort and joy, For Jesus Christ our Saviour was born on Christmas Day._

In Bethlehem in Jewry This blessed babe was born, And laid within a manger Upon this blessed morn; The which His mother Mary Nothing did take in scorn. _O tidings of comfort and joy_,--

From God, our Heavenly Father, A blessed Angel came, And, unto certain shepherds, Brought tidings of the same; How, that in Bethlehem was born The Son of God by name. _O tidings of comfort and joy_,--

* * * * *

The Shepherds at those tidings, Rejoicèd much in mind, And left their flocks a-feeding In tempest, storm, and wind, And went to Bethlehem straightway, This blessed Babe to find. _O tidings of comfort and joy_,--

But when to Bethlehem they came, Where as this Infant lay, They found him in a manger Where oxen feed on hay, His mother Mary kneeling Unto the Lord did pray. _O tidings of comfort and joy_,--

Now to the Lord sing praises All you within this place, And with true love and brotherhood Each other now embrace, This holy tide of Christmas All others doth deface. _O tidings of comfort and joy, For Jesus Christ our Saviour was born on Christmas Day._

_Old English_

The Golden Carol

(Of Melchior, Balthazar, and Gaspar, the Three Kings of Cologne)

We saw the light shine out a-far, On Christmas in the morning, And straight we knew Christ's Star it was, Bright beaming in the morning. Then did we fall on bended knee, On Christmas in the morning, And prais'd the Lord, who'd let us see His glory at its dawning.

Oh! ever thought be of His Name, On Christmas in the morning, Who bore for us both grief and shame, Afflictions sharpest scorning.

And may we die (when death shall come), On Christmas in the morning, And see in heav'n, our glorious home, The Star of Christmas morning.

_Old English_

Caput apri refero resonens laudes domino

The boar's head in hands I bring, With garlands gay and birds singing! I pray you all help me to sing, _Qui estis in convivio_!

The boar's head I understand, Is chief service in all this land, Wheresoever it may be found, _Servitur cum sinapio_!

The boar's head I dare well say, Anon after the twelfth day, He taketh his leave and goeth away! _Exivit tunc de patria!_

_From a Balliol MS. of about 1540_

Villagers All, this Frosty Tide

Villagers all, this frosty tide, Let your doors swing open wide, Though wind may follow, and snow beside, Yet draw us in by your fire to bide; _Joy shall be yours in the morning_!

Here we stand in the cold and the sleet, Blowing fingers and stamping feet, Come from far away you to greet-- You by the fire and we in the street-- _Bidding you joy in the morning_!

For ere one half of the night was gone, Sudden a star has led us on, Raining bliss and benison-- Bliss to-morrow and more anon, _Joy for every morning_.

Goodman Joseph toiled through the snow-- Saw a star o'er a stable low; Mary she might not further go-- Welcome thatch, and litter below! _Joy was hers in the morning!_

And then they heard the angels tell 'Who were the first to cry Nowell? Animals all, as it befell, In the stable where they did dwell! _Joy shall be theirs in the morning!_'

Quoted in _The Wind in the Willows_, by KENNETH GRAHAME.

_By permission of Charles Scribner's Sons_

Holly Song

Blow, blow, thou winter winde, Thou art not so unkinde, As mans ingratitude Thy tooth is not so keene, Because thou art not seene, Although thy breath be rude. _Heigh ho, sing heigh ho, unto the greene holly, Most frendship is fayning; most Loving, meere folly: Then heigh ho, the holly, This Life is most jolly._

Freize, freize, thou bitter skie That dost not bight so nigh As benefitts forgot: Though thou the waters warpe, Thy sting is not so sharpe, As freind remembred not. _Heigh ho, sing heigh ho, unto the greene holly, Most frendship is fayning; most Loving, meere folly: Then heigh ho, the holly, This Life is most jolly._

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

Before the Paling of the Stars

Before the paling of the stars, Before the winter morn, Before the earliest cockcrow, Jesus Christ was born: Born in a stable, Cradled in a manger, In the world His hands had made Born a stranger.

Priest and King lay fast asleep In Jerusalem, Young and old lay fast asleep In crowded Bethlehem: Saint and Angel, ox and ass, Kept a watch together Before the Christmas daybreak In the winter weather.

Jesus on His Mother's breast In the stable cold, Spotless Lamb of God was He, Shepherd of the fold: Let us kneel with Mary Maid, With Joseph bent and hoary, With Saint and Angel, ox and ass, To hail the King of Glory.

CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI

"The Minstrels played their Christmas Tune"

The minstrels played their Christmas tune To-night beneath my cottage eaves; While, smitten by a lofty moon, The encircling laurels, thick with leaves, Gave back a rich and dazzling sheen, That overpowered their natural green.

Through hill and valley every breeze Had sunk to rest with folded wings: Keen was the air, but could not freeze, Nor check the music of the strings; So stout and hardy were the band That scraped the chords with strenuous hand.

And who but listened?--till was paid Respect to every inmate's claim: The greeting given, the music played, In honour of each household name, Duly pronounced with lusty call, And "merry Christmas" wished to all!